


Homeward Bound

by lilraven



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: AU, F/F, Family Fluff, Pining, So much angst, it's not really M at first but umm, m to be safe, separated wives, u name it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilraven/pseuds/lilraven
Summary: Eight years into the future, Charity and Vanessa have been separated for a year when Johnny and Moses stumble upon each other at summer camp. Can they figure out why Charity took Moses and left? And more importantly, how will they get their mothers back together?Aka. The Parent Trap(ish) AU no one asked for.





	1. Birds of a feather

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Alex, who has been my beta and my emotional support in trying to write from the perspective of a 10yo boy. You're the best, I love you!

The back of the bus is sweltering hot, despite it being the coldest day in all of July. Moses is sat tucked away in the very last row, leaning his head against the window, scowling at the three kids laughing and bustling in their seats beside him. He’d realized too late he should’ve taken a seat closer to the front, and now he’s stuck here, staring out the window at blurry fields and patches of trees flickering by. He hates being here, it’s never going to be the same again. Not when he’s sat here on his own, ear buds blasting music loud enough that he doesn’t have to hear all the other kids’ excited bubbling about camp. He skips a few songs, until one comes on that makes a vivid memory of home flash across his mind. Well, what he used to call home. It’s only a bit over a year since they left, but already Emmerdale seems more like a distant dream than anything real and tangible in the past. He misses it more than he’ll ever say out loud, misses Tug Ghyll and his brother. Misses Mum and the way Ma used to smile when they were still back home. Misses the way they all laughed and danced to the song playing in his ears now. He skips the rest of the song, throwing a glance across the bus to the kids playing around, all of them here with their old friends or siblings, and a flash of jealousy goes through his brain. He should be one of them. Here with Johnny, or not at all. Just as the first drops of rain splatter on the window, his phone vibrates in his pocket and he digs it out, a message from Noah appearing across the screen.

 

 

_Heard you’re off to camp today? How’s Ma? Did she cry?_

            Nah, I bet she’s glad to be rid of me for a week.

_Idk, you’re all she’s got, bro._

            Well that ain’t my fault.

_Moz…_

Whatever. I’ll survive. It’s just a week without a phone. Or friends.

_Moz, come on. You’ll make new ones!_

Doubt it.

_You will. Have fun, yeah? I’ll call ya Sunday, k?_

K

* * *

 

 

Johnny slams the car door shut, stomping his way around to the back of the car to snatch the duffle bag from his mother’s hand.

 

“Oi, watch the attitude,” Vanessa says sternly, ruffling Johnny’s hair in a gesture that says he’s mostly forgiven for acting out.

 

“Why’d you have to drop me off?” Johnny drawls, kicking at a small stone at his feet, “Everyone else is on the bus.”

 

“Because,” Vanessa pulls him into a tight hug, pressing a kiss on his temple that he fails to dodge, “I’m gonna miss you, Porcupine.”

 

Johnny rolls his eyes at the nickname, but stops struggling against his mother’s hug, and pats her on the back.

 

“Stop calling me that.”

 

It’s been a while since Mum, or anyone, has called him by the ridiculous nickname, the remnants of a spikey haircut Ma had insisted on giving him when he was five. It had been a running joke, but to hear it now makes a cold tingle go down his spine, and memories flash in his brain that he’d rather keep locked up in the back of his mind, where they’ve been for the past year.

 

“You know you love it.” Vanessa winks, earning a groan from Johnny as he steps back from the hug and heads towards the other end of the parking lot where a bright red double-decker has just pulled in.

 

 

“You’re gonna be fine, Mum, it’s only a week,” he calls out, waving his hand at Vanessa who seems glued to her spot behind the blue beetle, waving at him incessantly as if it’s the first time he’s spent a week at camp. He can tell she’s playing tough for his sake. Letting him out of her sight hasn’t come easy in the last year, not after everything that’s happened. He glances back one more time, giving Vanessa his best smile and a thumbs-up before hoisting the bag higher on his shoulder and making his way to the entrance of the campground where the rest of the kids are assembled in a circle around a growing heap of bags and sleeping bags being tossed out of the luggage compartment of the bus.

 

Johnny eyes the kids gathered around the coach, pushing his hair back in an attempt to look uncaring. He’s not entirely sure he’s pulled it off, but he supposed it doesn’t hurt to try and look unruffled. No one seems to be paying him much attention anyway. He shifts the bag on his shoulder and spots a group of kids picking on a scruffy-looking boy about his own age. It’s not a great idea, but he stomps over anyway.

 

“Oi, you want to leave him alone, yeah?”

 

The group of boys scatter back, obviously not keen on starting a real fight. They mumble something, but a stern look is enough to send them in the other direction and Johnny steps closer to help the kid up from the muddy ground. He offers the kid a hand, but when deep green eyes look up from under a sliver of blonde fringe, he freezes.

 

“Moz?”

 

“J?”

 

He yanks Moses up by the hand, but lets go once they’re both upright. The way Moses looks at him feels like whiplash, all of the air sucked out of his lungs, his brain ringing empty.

 

“I’ve gotta go.”

 

He turns away, trying to stop the tirade of words hanging from his mouth, but Moses runs after him, stopping him with a hand on his arm.

 

“Wait, J,” he sounds desperate, pleading, so much like Ma that it makes Johnny’s stomach turn, “we had to go. Ma wouldn’t let me call you.”

 

He turns back to face his brother, anger swelling in his veins, not sure if he even wants to hear the half of it.

  
“You just – you disappeared! You were my best mate, Moz.”

 

Just as Moses is about to answer, one of the camp leaders blows a whistle, and they start separating the kids into sections. Before they lose each other, Moses catches Johnny’s eyes and mouths ‘meet me at the campfire.’ And with that, he’s lost in the sea of kids moving towards the tents.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first day of camp stretches long into the evening, the sun peaking out from behind a dark curtain of clouds just as it starts to dip below the hill at the edge of the campgrounds. Moses slumps down on a log right by to the fire and pulls out a Swiss knife from his pocket. Picking up a branch, he starts molding it into a skewer, whittling off piece by piece, his hands shaking as he feels the anger brewing in the pit of his stomach. Johnny has been avoiding him all day, opting for kayaking when he knows Moses hates water, and disappearing the minute Moses laid eyes on him in the queue for dinner. He flicks the knife hard, almost catching his own thumb with the sharp edge, and bites his lip. It isn’t fair, not when none of this is his fault. He hates Ma for what she’s done, he doesn’t want to, but he does. It’s not like he chose this. He swallows over the burning anger lodged in the back of his throat and tries to focus on the edge of the knife cutting off neat slivers of wood. It doesn’t really help, because he still sees Mum’s face on the last morning, hears the sobs that Ma thought she’d muffled into a pillow on the first nights they were away.

 

“Want some?” Johnny’s voice makes him jump, and his eyes shoot up to find a familiar half-smirk hovering between him and the fire, a bag of marshmallows being thrust in his direction. He stares for a moment, stuck on how much Johnny’s eyes look like Mum’s, before clearing his throat and nodding, shuffling to make room for Johnny on the log beside him.

 

For a moment neither of them says anything, Moses just hands the stick he’s finished to Johnny and starts on another one while Johnny pokes two marshmallows onto the first one and starts roasting them over the crackling fire. The air feels thick, and it sticks to the back of Moses’s throat, stopping the words he’s trying to form. It’s always been Johnny who’s good with words, witty and clever, spouting them out quicker than Ma on a good day. Only he seems to have lost some of that spunk, and Moses knows why.

 

“Where did you guys go?” Johnny’s voice is light, almost carefree, but Moses can tell it’s a practiced cool, an attempt at distance that neither of them really buys.

 

“Leeds,” Moses shrugs and hears Johnny scoff beside him, so he quickly adds, “I hated it.”

 

“Right.”

 

“I did. I never wanted to go, you know that, J. Ma just went and flipped out, I still don’t know why. She just –”

 

Johnny turns to look at him for the first time since he sat down, his eyes piercing, hanging on to whatever Moses is about to say.

 

“She never told me, okay? When I tried to ask her, she said I wouldn’t understand, and that it was adult business or whatever. Only...”

 

“Only what?”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t stop asking her, right? And then one day she just kinda cracked and shouted that she had to keep us all safe. And then she locked herself into her room and the next thing I knew Noah came to pick me up for a sleepover.”

 

He watches Johnny pick at the burnt marshmallow at the end of the stick, his eyes squinting a bit too hard, a frown creeping between his brows.

  
“Wait, you’ve seen Noah? He knew where you were?”

 

“Yeah, he was the only one that knew.”

 

“He didn’t tell me.”

 

“Ma made us promise. She said you and Mum were in danger.”

 

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Moses takes half of the marshmallow Johnny has finally managed to peal off the stick, and chances a small smile at his brother, “I am sorry, J. I should’ve tried to call.”

 

Johnny shrugs, biting into his half of the burnt candy.

 

“S’okay. We have to find out what’s going on though, so you guys can come home.”

 

The smile on Moses’ face brightens tenfold, and he bumps his shoulder against Johnny’s.

 

“I missed you, Porcupine.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

They both laugh, and the knot in Moses’ stomach finally undoes itself. He’s got J back. Now they just need a plan.

* * *

 

“We could stage an accident! Almost drown while kayaking! Or, uhh, fall while rock climbing! They’d both have to come to the hospital.”

 

Johnny throws his hands up in the air, his voice exasperated, knowing full well this one isn’t any better than the last five plans he’s thrown at Moses. He’s been pacing back and forth in front of his brother at the edge of the football field for a good ten minutes, throwing ideas into the air, each one more ludicrous than the last. The last five have included various situations of breaking bones or disappearing into the forest, and Moses is looking at him with mild amusement painted across his face. He’s just about to start on another rant when something clicks behind his eyes, and he looks at Moses with a mad glint in his eye.

 

“Let’s switch places.”

 

“What? J –“

 

“Have you seen The Parent Trap?”

 

“Yes… But aren’t we kinda missing an integral part here?”

 

“What?”

 

“Dude,” Moses rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful, “we’re not twins.”

 

“Right,” Johnny scratches his temple and Moses can’t help but laugh at how daft he looks. Johnny makes a face and punches him in the arm, and he quickly rearranges his face into a somewhat neutral expression.

 

“What about Noah?” Moses offers on a whim, “We could –”

 

“Moz you’re a genius!”

 

“I am?”

 

“Yes! Here’s what we’re going to do…”


	2. Prepare for trouble (and make it double)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry it's been a while, I moved countries this week, so my life has been a bit hectic. Thanks for all the lovely comments, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! x

“A bit higher! I’m almost there,” Moses says, struggling to keep his balance as he teeters on Johnny’s shoulders, fingers clutching the narrow window sill, “C’mon, J, just give me a push!”

 

“A push? You make it sound so bloody easy from up there,” Johnny snaps, his breath coming in quick bursts as he tries to hoist his brother up.

 

Moses clutches the wooden edge of the window tighter, trying to pull himself up, but he’s just a bit too short to fling himself in through the open window.

 

“Jump!”

 

He can literally hear Johnny’s eyes roll back as he shifts again, digging his toes into bony shoulders.

 

“Ouch!” Johnny’s voice has gone from disbelieving to indignant, and he grabs onto Moses’ ankles to keep him upright against the wall of the cabin. “Are you insane? I can’t jump with you up there! When did you get this heavy?”

 

“Oi! Shut it and just – just do it.”

 

This plans seems worse by the second, but Moses has decided they’re going through with it. He’s already wobbling barefoot on Johnny’s shoulders behind the camp leaders’ cabin after having snuck away while the rest of the camp is having breakfast, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get in so they can call Noah. He digs his toes deeper into Johnny’s shoulders, this time on purpose. It sparks another loud ‘ow’ from his brother, but gets the point across.

 

“Fine, but don’t blame me when you crack your stupid head open!”

 

“Yeah, whatever. On three, okay? One – two –“

 

Johnny kicks off the ground, letting go of Moses’ ankles as he clambers up and dives through the window, feet dangling in the air until he disappears completely. All Johnny hears is a loud thud, and then it all goes quiet.

 

“Moz?”

 

He stares up, the realization hitting him that they never really planned how they’d get him up there after Moses. Or what they’d do if Moses cracked his bloody head open in the process of getting in.

 

“Moz? You all right?”

 

The answer comes in the form of a rope being hauled out the window, and a moment later Moses appears in the window, a huge grin on his face.

 

“What’re you waiting for?” Moses grabs the rope and rattles it against the wall for emphasis. “Get up!”

When Johnny finally drags himself in through the window, Moses is already elbow-deep in the desk drawers, pulling them open one by one and sending heaps of post-it-notes and pens scattering across the floor. Johnny shakes is head and clears his throat, and when Moses hurls around with his face like a question mark, he gives his brother his best ‘you daft idiot’ look.

 

“Moz,” he sighs, and shoves his finger in the air, pointing at the shelf above the desk, where a bucket clearly labelled ‘cell phones’ sits.

 

“Right.”

 

Moses climbs onto the desk, and starts rummaging through the bucket for their phones while Johnny glances out the window, suddenly aware of the time it took them to get in, and the rope still hanging out the window.

 

“Moz, we haven’t got much time.”

 

“Got them!”

 

Moses’ victorious grin dies on his face when the door swings open, and the camp leader stomps in, her lips a thin line as she takes in the mess on the floor and the two boys stood frozen on her desk, the bucket of cell phones dangling between them.

 

“Dingle and Woodfield. I should’ve guessed you were up to something when neither of you was whining for more toast at breakfast.”

 

She sweeps across the office and plucks the bucket and the cell phones out of they boys’ hands, her eyes widening as she jerks her head at them to get down from the desk. Once they’ve jumped down, Moses almost tripping on his way down, Johnny barely catching his sleeve before he hits the floor, she sets the bucket on the table and stares them down.

 

“Explain.”

 

“Well, Miss Blake, the thing is we –“ Moses’ words are interrupted by an elbow that digs between his ribs, making him sputter as Johnny gives him a half-apologetic smile.

 

“It was my idea!” Johnny pipes up, his brain ticking as he tries to formulate a plan, “I, uh, I dared Moz to get my phone for me, but turns out it takes two to get through the window, so I had to help him… And… Umm, I hope you won’t call our mums?”

 

Moses turns to look at him like he’s crazy.

 

“But J –“

 

Johnny stomps on his brother’s toes, his eyes going so wide that Moses thinks they might bulge out of his head. Realisation hits him, and he nods vehemently, turning to face Miss Blake’s confused face.

 

“Oh yeah, please, don’t call our mothers,” Moses drawls out, finally catching on to what Johnny is planning, “that would be the worst.”

 

Miss Blake squints her eyes, looking slowly between the two boys as if trying to solve a particularly tricky crossword.

 

“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” she finally decides, squinting again when the boys both let out a grunt of disappointment, “just stay away from my office, you’ll get your phones back on Sunday. Now run along!”

 

She ushers them out the door and when it slams shut behind them, Johnny grabs a pebble from the ground and flicks it across the small playground in front of the cabins. Moses follows the trajectory of the rock, sulking as he slumps down on the wooden front steps.

 

“What do we do now?”

 

Johnny’s eyes flicker across the playground and over the field that opens across from them, looking for inspiration. When his eyes hit the flagpole at the edge of the field, he clicks his fingers and smirks, turning around to face Moses.

 

“Well, if that wasn’t enough for them to call home,” he raises his brows and watches Moses’ lips quirk into a smirk to match his own, “maybe we’ll have to cause a bit more trouble.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun seems to rise exceptionally slowly on Thursday morning. Moses rolls over in his sleeping bag, his stomach feeling like its got a colony of ants scuttling about inside. He squeezes the little elephant clutched in his hand once more before tucking it into the bottom of his rucksack, hidden from the prying eyes of the other kids. He pulls out a water bottle that’s been in his pack for days, and takes a huge gulp of water, waiting patiently for the rest of the camp to wake up. He counts the seconds it takes in his head until he finally hears the sound of megaphones from the distance. The kids around him scramble awake, and he waits a bit before sitting up and stuffing his water bottle back into his rucksack. He gets changed quickly and crawls out of the tent after the rest of the kids, spotting Johnny a few tents down and heading towards him through the herd of kids heading toward the morning flag-raising.

 

“All set?”

 

Johnny just smirks and nods, and they make their way to the other end of the field where most of the kids have already assembled in a semi-circle around the flagpole. They settle in line with the other kids while the camp instructors do a quick count to make sure they’re all there. When Miss Blake motions for the poor kid who’s volunteered to carry the flag this morning to step forward, Moses lets out snort of laughter that he quickly covers up with a cough when Johnny gives him a shove.

 

“Here we go…”

 

They watch the flag inch upwards, the fabric rolling open slowly as it ascends into the air. When it reaches the top of the pole, a gust of wind sweeps over the flag and it straightens out completely and flutters above their heads. Only it’s not just the flag that’s been hoisted up, which everyone soon realises, but also a pair of bright red boxer briefs tied onto a corner, flinging about in the early July air. The kids burst into laughter, and Moses and Johnny high-five, twin grins spreading on their faces as Miss Blake’s eyes land on them.

 

“I think we did it, Moz.”

 

Miss Blake blows on her whistle and the kids grow quiet, waiting for the oncoming lash-out. Only it never comes, Miss Blake just points a finger at the boys and then at her office across the playground.

 

“You two, in my office. Now.” She glances around, and shakes her head a bit. “The rest of you, breakfast!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Now I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you. I’ve known you two for years, and you’ve never been like this before —“ Miss Blake says sternly, her eyes flicking between Moses and Johnny, and the computer screen between them as she clicks the mouse incessantly, clearly looking for something. Moses squirms beside Johnny, and he nudges him quickly, trying to keep a neutral face. He has a feeling he knows where this is going, and it’s not good.

 

“Wait. You’re not at the same address anymore.”

 

And there it is.

 

“Look, Miss Blake,” Johnny steps forward with a practiced, solemn look on his face, “we don’t want your pity. We messed up, it’s okay if you call our mums.”

 

“Is that what this is about? You actually want me to call them, don’t you?”

 

Moses kicks at the floor, waiting for Johnny to come up with an explanation to get them out of trouble like he usually does. He can’t count the times Johnny has verbally wriggled them out of trouble, usually earning a mixture of chagrin and amusement from Ma at how alike they are despite not being related by blood. The resemblance between Ma and Johnny is uncanny, so much so that sometimes Moses wonders if him and Johnny were switched at some point as kids, even though he knows they were far too big for that when their mothers decided to move in together and join their families. He looks at Johnny now, the way he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, fists swaying at his sides as he grapples for a lie, a half-truth, anything to get them closer to their goal. Only it never comes. Johnny crumbles, in a way Moses has never seen him do, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to cry. Before Moses can react, Johnny darts out the door, leaving him standing in the middle of the office, Miss Blake’s gaping face searching his for an answer he doesn’t have.

 

“I, uhh, I should go,” he mutters to the floor before spinning on his feet and following his brother into the blaring sunshine outside.

 

He finds Johnny perched under a giant oak, and the sight tugs at a memory buried deep in Moses’ brain, one he hasn’t revisited in years, but suddenly it blares before his eyes in screaming colour. It was Johnny’s birthday, maybe his fifth, when the two of them ran around on a hill, and Johnny climbed up an oak much like this one, getting far too high to be safe. It was the first time Moses remembers being scared to death, the memory of his raging heartbeat and sweaty palms stark in his mind. It’s the first time he remembers realising what losing his brother would be like. Johnny ended up being rescued by Ma, of course, but ever since, Moses has had a small haunting voice in his head, saying what if, one day? And then, a year ago, it happened. Not for good, but for a whole year he had to live without Johnny and now that he has him back, he refuses to go back to a life where him and Ma both fall asleep pretending for the others’ sake that they’re not sobbing on either side of the thin wall separating their beds.

 

“Hiya,” he says, shoving Johnny’s shoulder gently and taking a seat beside him in the shade of the huge tree.

 

“She’s proper mad now, isn’t she?” Johnny’s voice lacks its usual spike, and Moses almost doesn’t recognise the person sitting beside him – he’s nothing like his best friend, Porcupine, the brother who seemed invincible to him as they grew up side by side.

 

“I didn’t stay long enough to find out, but probably yeah.”

 

Moses shuffles closer, not close enough to touch, but a clear sign that he’s there. Solid. Right by Johnny’s side if he needs him.

 

“We should probably leave them out of this, yeah?” Johnny’s voice is low, defeated, as he jerks his head toward the cabins that are barely visible beyond the green foliage they’re shrouded in.

 

“Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”


	3. Tug O' War

The last days of camp run away from them – Johnny tries to clutch onto them but they spill from his grasp like water, and he hates how there’s nothing he can do to stop them. He watches Moses’ eyes grow darker by the day, wants to be the big brother he can count on – not that he’s much older, but that’s the way it’s always been. After Noah moved out, Johnny was the oldest and he’d stepped up without meaning to, without any incentive from either of their mothers. Ever since he’s been the one to talk them out of things, the one that knows when to bargain, and when to bend if Mum gets really angry about some stunt they’ve pulled, and what to do if they need to wheedle extra pocket money out of Ma. But now he’s stuck. He doesn’t know how to manipulate this situation, because so much of it is outside his control. So he ends up doing what he imagines Ma would do: he tries to make sure they have fun the last few days they have together.

 

He drags Moses to rock climbing and archery in the mornings, right after they’re freed from the dish duty they’ve been given as punishment for the prank they pulled with the flag. He finds the tree house they built two years ago and they spend the afternoons perched under a thin canopy of leaves, drafting a master plan that will likely land them both grounded for the rest of their preteen years, but neither of them really cares. He goes over the plan like a mafia boss – well that’s what he’d like to think at least – putting on a terrible accent that sends Moses into a fit of laughter without fail. He hopes it works, it’s a thin as ice chance, but they might just be able to pull it off. It’s up there in their rickety tree house where they spend the last morning of camp before they’re pulled apart again, although this time for only a short while.

 

“So,” Johnny squeezes his hands into tight fists as he stands in front of a very serious Moses who is perched on the other side of their tree house, his feet dangling over the edge as he looks at Johnny over his shoulder, “when you get your phone back, you text Noah and make sure he’s in on the plan. And let me know the second he answers, yeah?”

 

“We’ve been over this a billion times now, J. I’ve got it.”

 

Moses drawls out the words, going for a bored tone of voice, but Johnny can see the smile creeping onto his face as he rolls his eyes. He picks up a pinecone and chucks it at Moses, who dodges just in time and laughs before getting up and pulling Johnny into a hug he’s not half expecting.

 

“Hey, it’ll be fine Moz. We’ll get you back home. Both of ya.”

 

Johnny isn’t sure he believes it himself, but he has to try. He’s had enough of the silence, the way Tug Ghyll rings with emptiness without Ma and Moz around. Not that Mum doesn’t try to keep him busy, but even she slips some evenings, the ghost of an expectant smile growing on her face when she’s had a few glasses of wine and hears a noise at the door. It never lasts, of course, and Johnny keeps his eyes on whatever film they’re watching on the telly, because the one time he didn’t he saw Mum blinking away tears, casting her eyes away from Johnny when she saw him watching. It’s not right, none of it is. He pulls away from Moses and ruffles his hair with a half-smile.

 

“Just stick to the plan and we’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

The way back to Leeds feels impossibly longer than the bus ride to camp, and no matter how hard Moses tries to distract himself, his brain can’t stop whirring with nerves. He’s taken his phone out and stuffed it back in his backpack more times than he can count, but he just can’t bring himself to type the message. It all hangs on this, their whole plan. On whether he can get Noah to help them or not. When the bus pulls to a stop in a parking lot by the town hall, he rushes out and almost trips on the stairs, no Johnny to pull him upright this time.

 

“Oi kid, watch it. I told you to come back home in one piece, yeah?”

 

He clocks Ma stood on the curb not far from where the bus is parked, flicking her car keys between her fingers, the way she usually does when he’s asked her a particularly nosy question about something she’d rather never speak of. She tosses her head up and smirks, pushing the keys into her pocket as she steps toward Moses and pulls him into a tight hug, ruffling his hair the exact same way Johnny did a short few hours ago.

 

“Hi, Ma.”

 

“It’s good to have ya back, Baba.”

 

He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but smiles up at her in spite of it, squeezing his mother a bit tighter before dragging her along to the other side of the bus where his duffel bag has already been tossed into the heap of bags piling on the ground. He snatches it from the pile, never letting go of Ma’s hand and looking back at her expectantly once he’s hauled the bag onto his shoulder.

  
“We going?”

 

“What’s got into you?” Charity asks, her eyebrows knitting together as she sizes him up.

 

“Nothing,” Moses shrugs a bit too quickly to be convincing, “Just want to go home.”

 

Charity’s eyes scan his face for a give, but when he doesn’t budge, she just shrugs and tugs him toward the other end of the parking lot. He only lets go of her hand when she pops open the trunk and he drops his bag in and slams it shut. He rounds the car and slumps into the front seat before she has a chance to ask whatever question it is that he sees dangling on her lips. He can see she’s trying to hold it in when she gets in beside him, pushing the keys into the ignition and frowning as she backs the car out of the parking space. He’s surprised how long she actually takes – they’re already a few blocks away when she finally caves and looks over at him when they stop at a traffic light.

 

“C’mon Moz, what’s wrong? You look like J stole Mr. Elephant and hid him in the cellar again.”

 

The split second it takes for Charity to realise what she’s said and freeze is enough for Moses to panic. He twists in his seat to stare out the window, afraid she’ll see the truth that feels like it’s etched onto his face, into every movement he makes. The whole car goes still, the silence so loud that Moses squirms again, chancing a glance at Ma only to find her looking at him with a softness in her eyes that makes him look away again. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel, her eyes refusing to leave Moses’.

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –“

 

“Whatever.”

 

She slumps deeper into her seat, an argument left unspoken in her mouth when Moses pulls his headphones out and turns up the music. He flicks his finger over the screen until he finds Noah’s number and starts typing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update this time, thank you all for being so patient and for the lovely comments on the previous chapters! You guys are amazing x


	4. All the corners of you (all the bones that I knew)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya lovely humans! Thank you for bearing with me, I know it's been a while since I updated. I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Fair warning, it gets a bit tempestuous.

Vanessa is tired. She’s been tired for a long time. For eleven months, four days, and six hours, to be exact. She’s dragging herself down the street with two full bags of groceries, hoping against hope that the murky clouds hold their downpour long enough for her to make it home. She pushes open the gate to Tug Ghyll, drafting out the evening in her mind on autopilot. A quick shower, dinner for herself and Johnny, a superhero film they can both doze off to on the couch, shuffling Johnny up the stairs and then, sleep. Well, bed at least. Sleep, if she’s lucky. No nightmares, if she’s even luckier.

 

She pushes through the front door and drops the bags on the floor with a sigh before slumping down on the couch and closing her eyes. She just needs a minute to build up the happy mum persona, so Johnny doesn’t see the fissures that have slowly twisted their way about her heart. The invisible cuts that sting every time her brain tricks her into hearing another pair of footsteps running up the stairs along with Johnny’s, every time she absently reaches across the couch with her hand only to have it land on the empty cushion beside her. She’s doing it now, she realises, fingers twiddling with the edge of the cushion cover that she’s worn into a brittle thing over the months that spread out between her and that day.

 

She doesn’t speak of it, not after she spent a week drowning herself in cheap white wine, sobbing into the shoulder of a livid Tracy who came up with the most hideous names Vanessa’s ever heard in her life to describe the woman she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. In all honesty, it hadn’t helped, and she’d ended up feeling even worse for dumping Johnny off at Rhona’s, the thought of which had been the final nail in the coffin of her drinking binge. She’d sobered up and brought him home, and vowed that the two of them were all that mattered. All that could matter. And now she’s here, much like any other day, going through a mental checklist of things not to think about. Only she does. Constantly. She can’t erase the years, the now-instinctive movements her body makes at every turn because she’s accommodating her still. She can feel her by her side when she forgets to think, can hear her in the night sometimes when the bedroom grows still and the air in it echoes empty. Sometimes the eleven months feel like decades, sometimes a second.

 

She releases the withered fabric and lets her hand fall limp on the couch before pushing herself up and into the kitchen to unpack the groceries, her body mindlessly going through the motions, staring at nothing in particular. Is that a dent between the tiles? She’ll deal with it another day. She idles up the stairs and pushes Johnny’s door open slowly, a smile growing on her face as she hears the tune of his favourite video game playing on repeat.

 

“Hiya love, what do you say w—“

 

She swallows the rest of the sentence, her eyes flaring open at the empty room in front of her. There’s a heap of clothes strewn across the floor leading from the wardrobe towards the bed, and she can see the game console half-buried beneath them.

 

“Johnny?”

 

Her eyes dart across the room, but there’s no sign of him anywhere. She even goes to the length of peeking into his wardrobe, as if he’d even fit into the secret hiding place he loved as a toddler. She pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and rings him, pacing back and forth across the pile of clothes, picking them up and tossing them back when he doesn’t answer. She tries again. No answer.

 

When she’s about to start calling his friends’ parents, the phone buzzes in her hand and she almost drops it as a name she’s been avoiding for the better part of a year flashes across it. Charity. She stares at the phone, debating whether to hang up or not, but the nagging fear of not knowing where her son is makes her pick up the phone, her eyes screwing shut as she presses accept.

 

“Hello?” Vanessa’s voice wavers, the fingers of her free hand twisting around Johnny’s bed cover as she waits to hear a voice she loathes to have missed.

 

“Where’s my son?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Look, I got home to an empty flat and a note that says _I’m at mum’s_ , so you can drop the pretense, lady. I don’t know how you found us, but you’d better get him back to me.”

 

“What? What are you on about? Look Charity, I haven’t got the time for this, Johnny’s missing and I’m —“

 

“What?”

 

“I said I don’t have time —“

 

“Johnny’s missing too?”

 

“Yes. Wait. Moses, he – he’s gone too?”

 

It dawns on them both at the same time. Vanessa smacks a hand on her forehead and lets out a groan so low and grumpy that Charity chuckles before she can reel herself in. The sound settles warm in Vanessa’s chest and god she hates it.

 

“Oh, those bloody brats, where the hell have they run off to?” Charity says, her voice far too amused for Vanessa’s liking.

 

“How should I know?” Vanessa damn near screams down the phone, “You’re the one with the only clue.”

 

“Right, uhh, alright. Meet me at the station.”

 

“What station?” Vanessa asks, incredulous.

 

“The police station, Vanessa,” Charity says slowly, like she’s talking to an idiot.

 

“What police station?” Vanessa fires back, her voice dripping with malice, “Charity.”

 

“Oh. Leeds. Central.”

 

She hangs up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Vanessa’s blood is well beyond boiling when she pulls in at the station, her blue beetle screeching to a halt in front of the steps. She slams the door shut behind her and makes to stomp up the stairs, but when she looks up she’s met with two green eyes that floor her.

 

“Charity.”

 

“Vanessa.”

 

Charity’s voice is soft, apologetic even, and Vanessa’s stupid heart drops. She rips her gaze from Charity and rushes past her, up the stairs and into the station before she can say another word.

 

It takes half an hour before they get to talk to someone, and by that time Vanessa’s gone over every horrifying scenario in her head while Charity’s spewed every curse word known to humankind at anyone who dares to tell them they’ve got to wait just a bit longer. When they finally sit down in a private room, the Deputy hands them both a glass of water that neither of them takes a second glance at. They both start ranting at the same time about how their ten-year-olds are missing, and they must be together because Moses has left a note, and they need to be out there searching preferably hours ago. They keep going, Vanessa’s voice raising by the minute and Charity shifting restlessly in her chair, banging her fist on the table between them and the Deputy. He lets them go on for a while, but in the end he coughs loudly, snapping them both out of their senseless spiel. He gives them both a tight smile and then addresses Vanessa, who can tell he is measuring his words very, very carefully.

 

“So, you and your wife –“

 

“We’re divorced,” Vanessa snaps, her eyes growing cold as she stares stubbornly at the tabletop.

 

Charity shifts beside her, and Vanessa can feel her eyes all over.

 

“Well, technically we’re only separated, not divorced, buttercup —“

 

“We’re as good as.”

 

There’s another cough from the other side of the table and Vanessa turns red, an apology ready on her lips. But then Charity’s ringtone blares through the room and they all freeze for a moment. Vanessa turns slowly to Charity, her eyebrows climbing to her hairline as she stares her down.

 

“Really?”

 

Charity fishes out her phone, takes one look at the screen and stands up, murmuring “shit” under her breath as she rushes out of the room.

 

“She always this charming?” The Deputy muses out loud, and Vanessa would honestly laugh if it was even the least bit funny.

 

“You’ve no idea,” Vanessa grumbles and rolls her eyes to the heavens.

 

When Charity returns, Vanessa has a litany of questions lined up, ready to fire. Only she takes one look at Charity and suddenly her mouth won’t form words. Relief floods through her before Charity even speaks.

 

“That was Noah, he’s got them.”

 

Vanessa closes her eyes, letting her shoulders drop.

 

“That’s their older brother,” Charity explains to the Deputy who looks like he’s fallen off this particular wagon a while ago.

 

“Well, it’s good to hear the boys are safe,” he settles for a warm tone, making Vanessa blush even further.

 

“Sorry for wasting your time,” she can’t quite bring herself to look at him as she gets up and joins Charity at the door, “and the, uhh, shouting.”

 

They barely hear his “don’t worry about it” as they rush out the door, Vanessa taking the lead as they stumble out into the rain. Charity pulls out an umbrella over both of them, and Vanessa only hesitates for a second before taking the arm Charity's offering her and they take the stairs together in short, quick strides.

 

“I’ll drive,” Vanessa says and makes a beeline for her car, Charity close on her heel.

 

“I know where he lives, Ness”

 

Vanessa bristles at the pet name, looking anywhere but Charity. The argument sits heavy on her tongue, but there’s really no point. The promise of rain from earlier in the day is coming down in buckets now, and she’s standing far too close to Charity under the bloody umbrella that’s threatening to collapse over their heads any second.

 

“Fine,” she darts in through the passenger’s side door and misses the small smirk of triumph that graces Charity’s face for a second before she rounds the car and gets in beside Vanessa. Vanessa tugs the seatbelt so hard it catches twice before she can pull it across her chest and fasten it.

 

“Steady on, babe. It’s me you’re mad at, not the car,” Charity hums, fastening her own seatbelt in one smooth, arrogant move.

 

Vanessa shoots a glare at her, the only answer she deigns a frustrated huff before she turns to stare out through the windshield. It’s unfair how Charity’s amused tone is so infuriatingly familiar, her teasing smirk unbearable in such close proximity after the spin cycle Vanessa’s been put through for the past few hours. Her fists clench in her lap as Charity revs the engine and they’re off into the downpour that’s so heavy it makes Vanessa wonder whether it’s really safe to drive.

 

It doesn’t take long before she realises they’re lost. The way Charity’s head bobs up and down, side to side as she tries to make out the street signs in the ever-growing darkness.

 

“I thought you said you knew where you were going,” Vanessa says, her voice ice cold, eyes never leaving the blur outside the windshield. She can hear Charity’s eye roll reverberate through the tiny car though.

 

“Ness, not right now. I can’t see shit and –“

 

“Well maybe you should’ve let me drive so you could navigate. Or better yet, used the bloody navigator system in the first place, I swear Charity if you’d just –“

 

Charity hits the breaks, and the rest of Vanessa’s sentence putters into a cough as the seatbelt tightens painfully against her chest. She’s about to rip Charity a new one, but comes up short when she finds Charity’s eyes staring back at her filled with tears, her knuckles bone-white from gripping the steering wheel.

 

“Look, I’m just trying to get to our boys. I know you hate me, I know what I’ve done, okay?” Charity swallows hard, eyes searching Vanessa’s for just a moment of understanding, “But I am trying.”

 

Vanessa looks at her, really looks at her for the first time in a year, and a traitorous little corner of her heart sees her own pain reflected in Charity. So she lets one layer of the armour she’s so meticulously forged for herself fall, if only for the while it takes for them to get to Noah’s.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Charity repeats, her eyes lingering on Vanessa, making her skin burn the way no one else ever really has. She turns away before Charity does, afraid she’ll let the warmth seep through if she doesn’t catch herself in time.


	5. The words I try to find (my love, my life)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You beautiful humans! I know it's been ages, I apologise for that. I hope to be updating more frequently now that my life is in somewhat better order. Thank you for your patience, and your kind words and everyone who has asked for an update. I hope you're still with me. xx

“I can’t believe you two roped me into this.”

 

Noah’s been pacing back and forth in the tiny living room of his flat, his kid brothers watching him intently from the couch. They’d stopped their snickering once he ended the call to Vanessa and fixed them with a look that rivalled their mum’s on a good day.

 

“Ness is going to kill me. They’re both going to kill me,” he huffs and almost trips over his own feet as he spins and passes in front of the couch again. He hasn’t been in Vanessa’s good books in the last year anyway, with Charity and Moses gone and him refusing to admit he knew where they were all along. He suspects she knew. More than suspects. She’d tried so pry the truth out of him for the first few months, but in the end she’d given up and now whenever she brings Johnny over she has this defeated look on her face that makes Noah’s stomach turn. That’ll change tonight though, so he guesses this ruse cooked up by his clever little brothers was good for at least one thing.

 

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet if ya don’t stop that,” Johnny pipes up from the couch and him and Moses dissolve into a fit of giggles, only resurfacing when they find Noah’s stopped in front of them, his eyebrows furrowed but a hint of an amused smile playing on his lips.

 

“Where’d ya learn that?”

 

“’S what Mum always says ta Ma,” Johnny shrugs and looks at Moses, who is nodding at Noah very seriously.

 

“Right, anyway. You two can kiss goodbye to any sleepovers, because they’re never, ever going to let me –“

 

There’s a pounding at the door that’s so loud Noah briefly wonders whether it’ll get knocked straight off its hinges.

 

“Noah! Noah Dingle open this door or so help me I’ll –”

 

“Coming! I’m coming!”

 

He wrenches the door open to find Charity standing in the dimly lit stairway, one fist in the air, ready to attack the door should it not open in the next few seconds. He barely registers the flash of yellow that sneaks under Charity’s arm and hurtles by him into the flat. He half expects to find Vanessa scolding Johnny when he turns around, but what him and Charity, who’s only just stepped in behind him, see is a teary-eyed Ness crouched on the floor in front of the boys, lifting her hand to ruffle the little tuft of hair on Moses’ head before she pulls him into a tight hug.

 

“You’ve grown so much,” Vanessa sniffles, pulling back to take a proper look at him.

 

“Not that much,” Johnny says matter-off-factly before he looks up and spots Charity across the room and is sent hurtling towards her.

 

“Ma!”

 

“Oof!”

 

Charity coughs as the boy collides with her midriff with a surprising amount of force.

 

“Steady on Porcupine, you want me one piece, eh?”

 

“Ha! As if I could break you!”

 

Charity smiles, pressing a kiss on top of his head.

 

“No, you never would, love.”

 

Noah watches them from the door with an apprehensive smile on his face, waiting for the pin to drop. To his surprise it’s Moses that pulls away from Vanessa’s embrace first, and meets her eyes with the biggest, brightest puppy dog eyes Noah has seen him pull in years.

  
“Mum, please can we come back home?”

 

The whole room freezes. Charity swallows quietly, and her fingers wind tightly around Johnny’s shoulders. Four pairs of eyes are glued to Vanessa as she tilts her head to the side and gives Moses a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

“Oh darling, I don’t think that’s possible. Your Ma and I, I don’t think we can –“

 

“Please, at least talk to her! She’s here now. Mum please, I want to come home,” Moses pleads, tears running down his cheeks as he points at Charity, “she wants to come home. I promise we’ll be good!”

 

Vanessa gasps, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as the reality of his words hit her.

 

“Oh Moses, my love, you’ve been good, you’ve done nothing wrong, come here,” Vanessa’s voice breaks as she pulls him down into her lap and rocks him gently back and forth.

 

“It’s not your fault at all,” Vanessa whispers softly against his head, “I love you.”

 

Moses looks up at her, his lips trembling with his effort to stop crying.

 

“Please? Can you talk?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Wait what?” Charity squeaks, completely unprepared for this turn of events.

 

Vanessa gets up from the floor, softly detangling Moses from her arms as she turns to face the rest of their family.

 

“I said okay,” Vanessa says calmly, her eyes shifting from Charity to Johnny and then Noah, “Noah, would you put a film on for the boys? Charity and I will be in the kitchen.”

 

“I – uhh – yeah, course,” Noah says after a moment’s hesitation, and starts herding the boys back to the couch, leaving behind a dumbstruck Charity who barely registers Johnny slipping away from her arms. She just stands there, looking at Vanessa like she’s just witnessed some sort of miracle.

 

“You coming?” Vanessa’s voice breaks Charity out of her daze and she nods quickly, and stumbles after her through the kitchen door.

 

* * *

  

“You’re saying awfully little for someone who supposedly wanted to talk,” Vanessa mutters, her eyes not quite looking up to meet Charity’s from across the room where she’s stood reclining against a kitchen counter. She looks stiff, uncomfortable. The harshness of her voice makes the hairs on Charity’s neck stand up, and she comes to a halt in front of the small table between them, bracing her palms against its surface.

 

“Fine, I’ll just go then,” Vanessa huffs, and that finally spurs Charity into action and she moves to stop Vanessa with a gentle hand on her arm that gets quickly swatted away.

 

“If you want to explain, please do, Charity, because I am sick of not knowing. I’m sick of trying to understand what I did, or what I didn’t do. Whatever it was that was so horrible that I made you pack up and disappear without a trace and –“

 

The rest of Vanessa’s words fade out as Charity presses her eyes closed, thinking this might be an impossible task. She’s only ever seen Vanessa like this before once, and suddenly she has a very vivid flashback of a diamond ring being flung at her so hard that she had no time to dodge it, hitting her face with a force that left behind a mark that’s still visible today. She passes her fingers over the tiny dip on her cheekbone, completely tuning out of Vanessa’s litany of accusations. She wants to shut it all out, because she knows. She knows she broke her heart, and Johnny’s. She knows Moses will likely hate her forever for ripping him away from his family. She knows she made Noah lie to Vanessa, and carry her secrets.

 

“It was Bails,” Charity doesn’t look up, but she can feel Vanessa shift, can hear the soft gasp that escapes her before she can stop it, “he got out.”

 

“What? When? How?”

 

Vanessa’s right beside her now, dragging Charity’s eyes up from the table top, blue eyes searching hers. She hates the panic that bleeds into Vanessa’s voice, her eyes, her every movement. It’s exactly how she felt when she first heard.

 

“Last summer, he uhh,” Charity knots her fingers and looks away from the fear she sees glinting in Vanessa’s eyes, “he got out on good behaviour or summat, and I got a picture of you and the boys in the post, with a stupid note scribbled on the back about being careful, right? And so I bolted, because I thought he was going to hurt you, okay? I thought if I left, he’d come after me instead.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve done something, gone to the police, anything. Together.” Vanessa’s eyes are brimming with tears again, and her voice is barely a whisper.

 

“I was scared Vanessa! I thought he’d take you, or the boys, and I just. I panicked. I had to do something.”

 

“You left, Charity. You took Moses, and you disappeared.”

 

“I panicked! I thought Bails was going to hurt you.”

 

“Well, guess what, he didn’t,” Vanessa’s eyes shoot daggers through her tears, “but you did.”

 

The way her voice cracks resonates in Charity’s chest, and she swallows hard, trying to find the right words. Any words.

 

“I’m sorry, Ness. I made a mistake.”

 

“A mistake? You took our son, and you left the other one behind to wonder what he’d done wrong to make you go. He had nightmares for months! I –“

 

“I had to know you two were safe, I couldn’t,” Charity takes a step forward, but Vanessa recoils from her, and she freezes, nodding her head in understanding “I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d use you to get to me.”

 

Vanessa shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut on the tears that spill slowly down her cheeks.

 

“Do you have any idea what it was like, waking up every morning in that village?” Her eyes meet Charity’s, and the look in them makes her shiver. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Vanessa’s eyes this icy blue, not a hint of empathy in them.

 

“Do you have any idea what it was like to try to build a life, when every street corner and building reminded me of you? Having to put Johnny to sleep every night, and hear him waking up crying for you when I was trying not to? Waking up, and – and rolling over to the cold side of the bed, because I wasn’t awake enough to remember that you weren’t there.”

 

“Ness.”

  
“I have to go.”

 

“Ness, please –“

 

“Where’s Johnny? We have to go.”

 

She’s halfway through the door, when Charity catches up to her, grabbing her arm. Vanessa flings around, ripping her arm away from Charity’s grasp.

 

“Don’t touch me.”

 

Charity cowers back, throwing her hands up in surrender.

  
“Sorry.”

 

She lets her go. She stands in the middle of the small kitchen, her hands hanging limp by her sides, tears falling down her cheeks. She hears them fussing in the living room, a reluctant Johnny getting dragged away in the middle of Ghostbusters. She hears the door slam shut behind them.

 

 


	6. She rings like a bell through the night (and wouldn't you love to love her)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay we're getting feelsy here, but I suppose you lot signed up for that shit, right? Right?

It’s the third time that Charity makes the drive to Emmerdale within a few weeks, and by the tone of Vanessa’s voice over the phone earlier, they’re both as tired as the other one of this charade. She parks the car outside of Tug Ghyll and takes a deep breath, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. It’s hard to put a name to the feeling gnawing at her insides, a feeling that seems to shape shift whenever she thinks she’s figured it out. She’s frustrated one second, elated the next. There’s a part of her that loves Moses for being this insistent, but another part wishes she didn’t have to look into the iciness in Vanessa’s eyes that she meets each time she grudgingly comes to pick the little runaway up. They should’ve known this would happen. She should have known that Vanessa would think she was secretly condoning it. And maybe a part of her is. Maybe a part of her would rather see the coldness in Vanessa’s eyes than not see her at all.

 

Tonight is different though, because she’s made up her mind that it will be the last time. She’s never been the type to give up, but she’s done fighting now. Done fighting against Moses and Johnny, and even more tired of fighting herself. She gets out of the car and stomps her way up the path, the door swinging open before she even has a chance to knock.

 

“This has to stop,” Vanessa’s voice catches her before her eyes do. It’s cold, unwavering.

 

“Yeah, agreed,” Charity mutters and slips past Vanessa into the small cottage.

 

She spots Moses and Johnny on the couch, both of them solemn, refusing to look up at her when she rounds it to stand in front of them. She had a whole speech planned, but when she looks at them sat there, hunched over in defeat, she can’t bear to be angry with them. Not over something she has done.

 

“Boys, would you go upstairs for a bit? I need to have a word with your mother.”

 

Vanessa’s about to protest, but is easily silenced with a finger thrust into the air between them. Her eyes flash with anger, but she yields anyway, clamping her lips shut and giving an almost imperceptible nod as the boys hop off the couch and trudge upstairs, likely thinking another storm is about to hit. Neither of them moves before they hear Johnny’s bedroom door is firmly shut, but once it does, Vanessa bolts across the room, making Charity squirm with how eager she is to put more distance between them.

 

“What’s this then?”

 

It’s a small relief that the sharpness in Vanessa’s voice has died, and the way she looks at Charity as she busies herself with the kettle is almost soft.

 

“We’re moving back.”

 

Vanessa almost drops the teacup she’s taking out of the cupboard. She straightens up, her eyebrows meeting her hairline as she faces Charity fully for the first time.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“I said,” Charity crosses the small living room, but stops just shy of invading Vanessa’s personal space, “We’re moving back. You said it yourself, this has to stop. So Moz and I are coming back home.”

 

“Not into my house you’re not. I mean, Moses can visit if he wants, if we set it up, but –“

  
Charity steps closer, making the words die on Vanessa’s lips when she feels their bodies almost touch, Charity barely resisting the temptation to reach out and touch her trembling hands.

 

“Ness. I wouldn’t expect that. I’ve spoken to Chas, and there’s more than enough space at the pub for the two of us.”

  
She steps back, weary of smothering Vanessa in the tight space of the kitchen. The kettle boils but neither of them moves, the silence stretching between them as she waits for Vanessa to say something. Anything.

 

“Right. Right, then I suppose we should set up some kind of arrangement. For the boys.”

 

Charity bites back a smile, and looks away from the spark of hope she thinks she can see light up behind Vanessa’s eyes.

 

“Yes. For the boys.”

 

* * *

 

They fall into the habit almost uncomfortably easily, setting up family nights that alternate between Tug Ghyll and the pub. It’s only been a month, and Vanessa’s already starting to lose count of the evenings spent together, trying to hide the fact that her eyes are finding it harder and harder to steer away from Charity with each passing day. Charity, who sits across from her at the table, smiling at her through endless hours of board games and dinners that make not only they boys’ eyes shine, but Vanessa’s too. It’s another one of those nights, when Noah looks up in the middle of a game of Cluedo with an amused smile, the linings of a memory floating in his blue eyes.

 

“Hey guys, remember the finger paint?”

 

Charity chances a look at her across the table, and Vanessa holds her gaze for a split second before looking away. Of course Vanessa remembers. She remembers the day, vividly etched into her memory, when she got home in the sweltering heat of late July to find the three boys frolicking around in the back garden, covered in all the colours of the rainbow. She remembers how Noah had been sorry, but also visibly amused by the antics of his little brothers. “They were having fun,” he’d shrugged, and Vanessa couldn’t be upset, not really. She remembers letting them off the hook, because Charity wasn’t home yet and she wanted to be the good cop, if just once. She’d ordered Noah to bathe the five-year-olds before Charity got home from her evening shift at the pub, and promised that’d be the last of it. She remembers Charity’s laughter, ringing through the night as she recounted the story to her later, sat in the pink sunset in the garden. She remembers Charity spying one of the finger paint tubs under the rickety old wicker table and diving for it, and chasing Vanessa around the garden with bright red fingers until they were both breathless, laughing, colliding into each other and falling into the grass in a mess of limbs and sticky paint.

 

She shakes the memory away, and looks up to see Charity studying her with a look that says she knows. A look that says she can see that night flashing in Vanessa’s mind, the warmth, the love. She looks away, anywhere but into Charity’s searching eyes.

 

“Yeah, uh,” Charity chuckles, “that was definitely the day I decided you were never going to be on babysitting duty again.”

 

They all laugh, and even Vanessa joins in cautiously, careful of letting on that in her mind she’s cursing Charity for still being the one to save her. Even now, when it’s all gone sour, and sharing a laugh feels like stab in the chest, Charity draws the attention away from her, because she knows Vanessa. Knows her so infuriatingly well that Vanessa lets her make it all into a joke, just so she doesn’t have to face the reality of what all of this is.

 

It’s in fleeting moments like this when Vanessa feels her resolve begin to crumble, and there’s nothing she wants more than to reach out to Charity, to pull her back in and tell her it’s all still here, inside her, a flame that refuses to stop burning no matter how hard she’s tried to quench it. She can still feel Charity in every cell of her body, in every action, in every word. Because she never left the deepest parts of her, could never leave because she’s like the invisible thread that stitches Vanessa’s existence together, sewn into every beat of her heart. But then she remembers. She remembers the endless, freezing cold nights, the tears, the cold words that made no sense back then and still don’t. She remembers the numbing silence of their bedroom. Her bedroom. She remembers that it did end. And the sliver of light annihilates.


	7. Linger 'til dawn, dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nervous as heck about this chapter, just so you all know. This fic is going places I wasn't expecting at the beginning, but I think I like it. I hope you do to. Oh, and here's where we start getting to the M rating. You've been warned.

She never thought that Tug Ghyll could feel this cold, but then again Charity assumes this isn’t even close to how empty Vanessa must have felt after she took Moses and closed the front door behind them a year ago. A wave of guilt that’s never very far from her mind comes rushing into her brain and she knows there’s not much hope for sleep tonight. She rolls over under the thin duvet, trying to assemble her limbs on the tiny couch in a way that doesn’t make her ache. She doesn’t really know why the boys insisted on her staying over. Wrong. She does know, but considering that she’s ended up with her knees practically in her mouth, waiting for sleep that won’t come in the freezing living room, it doesn’t really seem like a world-class plan.

 

She loves the bones of her boys, she does, but she can’t help thinking sometimes that them wanting her to stay and be close to Vanessa might be making things worse. Worse for her that is, she thinks, rolling over once again, and kicking a cushion down onto the floor in the process. And still she stayed, because being in the same house as Vanessa, be it on a couch that is far too small for her to get any sleep on, makes her chest ache a bit less, and remembering the way Vanessa looks at her in fleeting moments when she forgets to build up her walls makes Charity feel warmer. Selfish. She knows.

 

She’s just about to try adjusting herself again when a soft whimper from upstairs stops her dead, her eyebrows shooting up. She lies frozen, her eyes wide and flickering around the dark ceiling, straining to hear if the sound repeats itself. When she hears a louder, more distinct ‘no’, she shoots up from the couch and tiptoes her way up the stairs. It’s not a child she hears crying out in their sleep, it’s Vanessa.

 

She knows it isn’t her place, but she can’t bring her body to stop from rushing up the stairs and through their (Vanessa’s, not theirs) bedroom door. Vanessa is thrashing around in the bed, sheets twisting around sweaty limbs, soft wails coming from her lips. Before she knows it, Charity is leaning over the edge of the bed, a hand reaching out to Vanessa’s shoulder.

 

“Hey,” Charity whispers, fingers digging into sweaty skin as she tries to still Vanessa, “Vanessa, wake up. Wake up, babe.”

 

Vanessa’s eyes snap open, and Charity tries to keep them on hers, as the woman slowly comes to grips with reality. The fear swimming in her eyes turns from fear to panic, and she rips herself away from Charity.

 

“No. You’re not here. You’re not real, you left.”

 

Vanessa’s crying now, hands gripping a pillow as she whispers to herself, “She’s not real. She’s not here. She’s – She’s not real.”

 

“Ness.”

 

“No.”

 

The way Vanessa’s voice breaks on the word makes Charity’s chest ache, and she leans in, making her hand as gentle as she can as she rests it between Vanessa’s shoulder blades.

 

“Ness, babe, I’m here. I – I stayed over after game night, remember? It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

 

She rubs her hand slowly along Vanessa’s back, whispering soft nothings into the dark around them, waiting until Vanessa’s sobs recede and her breathing returns to normal. Once it does, Charity straightens up and makes to leave, but a soft whisper stops her before she can take a step towards the door.

 

“Don’t go.”

 

For half a second Charity thinks she’s hallucinating, but then Vanessa rolls over in the bed, her red-rimmed eyes looking up to find Charity’s. Vanessa gulps in a breath before lifting her hand between them. Charity stares at it, hovering over the duvet, unsure if this is just Vanessa’s sleep addled brain, or if she truly wants Charity to stay.

 

“Ness.”

 

“Stay with me.”

 

Vanessa’s voice is pleading, her hand reaching closer, and all Charity can do is sigh as she takes it in her own and lets Vanessa drag her between the covers. They settle against each other, and Charity’s eyes burn with the feeling of Vanessa’s softness, the way she pulls Charity around herself like she never left.

 

* * *

 

It becomes another accidental habit of theirs, this sharing a bed thing. Charity thinks, no she knows, it is a terrible idea. But she lingers, after movie nights and family dinners, until the boys are tucked in and asleep, and Vanessa leaves her bedroom door open for her to slip through. Neither of them ever says a word. But Charity lingers. And Vanessa leaves her door open for Charity to crawl into bed and snuggle against her. It’s all perfectly innocent. Well, for the most part.

 

It starts off fine, Charity really does think she’s in control, but after a few weeks she’s gotten herself in a situation she doesn’t know what to do with. Because Vanessa is by no means a calm sleeper these days, in fact she keeps Charity up most nights with her restless dreams.

 

Charity doesn’t know which are worse, the nights when Vanessa jerks awake, covered in cold sweat, clinging to the sheets, silent tears trailing down her cheeks, breath coming in quick bursts against her chest as Charity tries to calm her – or the nights when Vanessa doesn’t wake, her skin burning with sweat for an altogether different reason. This is the fourth time it’s happened, and Charity feels like she’s losing her mind.

 

She can’t move, she can barely breathe as she feels Vanessa press into her back, her hand moving slowly under Charity’s top, teasing fingers on bare skin. Vanessa’s thighs tighten around one of Charity’s legs, and she feels a sigh vibrate against her neck. Vanessa stills for a moment, a sleepy moan spilling from her lips, but just when Charity thinks she might be spared, Vanessa’s hips tilt forward, and she grinds slowly against the back of Charity’s thigh, wet heat burning through the thin fabric of her pajama pants.

 

She needs to touch Vanessa, to turn around and drag her into her arms so badly that she thinks her body might shatter with want. But she can’t, not when Vanessa has no idea what is happening, has no idea her unconscious body is playing a particularly cruel trick on them both. For a fleeting moment the horrifying thought that Vanessa is dreaming of someone else crosses Charity’s mind, and she almost shakes herself out of the embrace, Vanessa’s sleep be damned. But then she hears it, a breathy whisper of her own name coming from lips pressed against the back of her neck as Vanessa’s hips roll forward again, sending a jolt of arousal wreaking through Charity’s body. She pinches her eyes closed, trying to ride out the wave of heat that makes her fingers clench against cool sheets and her body sink further into Vanessa without her permission. Vanessa moans in her ear, her fingers scratching at Charity’s abdomen, her hips never stopping as she moves agonisingly slowly against Charity’s leg.

 

  

* * *

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Vanessa freezes at her words, letting the lasagna dish sink into the warm water in front of her before drying her hands on the dishtowel in front of her. Charity stares at her, at the blush creeping up the back of her neck, waiting. When Vanessa finally turns around, she can barely look Charity in the face.

 

“About what?”

 

Her voice tells Charity she knows exactly what. She takes a cautious step closer to Vanessa, but still far enough not to make her scatter.

 

“About what?” Charity repeats, her voice incredulous, and Vanessa has the decency to blush an even deeper red. “I don’t know, Vanessa. Maybe the fact that you keep draping yourself over me every night and then waking up in the morning and going about your day as if nothing happened? I don’t know, maybe we should talk about that.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Vanessa’s voice is so quiet that Charity barely catches the words, and when she looks up there are tears in Vanessa’s eyes. She sighs and steps into Vanessa’s space, taking her trembling hands into her own, waiting until she looks up to meet her eyes.

 

“Look, babe. I don’t want you to be sorry, I just need to know what’s happening, alright? I need to know if you want me to try, or if I should just stop. I need to know if you’re ever going to let me explain. If you’re ever going to have me back. Because this, whatever the hell this is, is killing me, Vanessa.”

 

Vanessa’s eyes fill with a new set of tears and she turns her back, sobs wreaking her body as she leans against the kitchen counter. Without thinking, Charity lays her hand on Vanessa’s shoulder, making her spin around and bury her face in Charity’s neck, her fingers clinging to Charity’s shoulders.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Vanessa’s words come in warm puffs of air against Charity’s neck, “because I – I love you, but God, I hate you.”

 

Charity pulls back then, wiping away the tears falling down Vanessa’s cheeks.

  
“Look babe, I’m going to go, for now. Think about what you want, yeah?”

 

Vanessa’s face scrunches up as she fights against a new set of tears, but she nods nevertheless. Charity gives her shoulders a gentle squeeze before turning away and crossing the little cottage, trying to get away before she crumbles completely. When she’s at the door, she hears Vanessa’s strangled voice call out to her.

 

“Charity. I do want you to try. Please, try.”


End file.
